


ne plus ultra

by seonnim (dovelines)



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Multi, Porn with Feelings, Threesome - M/M/M, sex as a coping mechanism?, unhealthy attitudes towards sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:02:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22995157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dovelines/pseuds/seonnim
Summary: Something has gone wrong in Taekwoon tonight. Some piece of him that has had to keep on keeping on for too long without respite is - fragile, maybe broken, and Hakyeon is pretty sure he can blame it on how many lives Taekwoon has seen end in the name of his father’s business and on how few contacts he’s managed to keep on his personal phone. (Hakyeon thinks it might just be him and Wonshik, at this point.)
Relationships: Cha Hakyeon | N/Jung Taekwoon | Leo, Cha Hakyeon | N/Jung Taekwoon | Leo/Kim Wonshik | Ravi, Jung Taekwoon | Leo/Kim Wonshik | Ravi
Comments: 1
Kudos: 23





	ne plus ultra

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this in.... 2017? and then deleted it bc of an Occurrence, so if you recognize this, that's probably why, LMAO
> 
> that said, it is presented unchanged!
> 
> this fic was originally written for alicia and nem, and this reupload is...also for alicia and nem. sorry I'm the worst, guys
> 
> **original note:**
> 
> i promised this to @jungbutt and @notvixx a whole month ago as bodyguard au pwp and it...got out of hand. like a lot :| 
> 
> working description was “taek gets fucked and is sad”

“Hakyeon-ssi.”

The voice is quiet, almost painfully faint, but Hakyeon recognizes it anyway, even as he keeps his eyes carefully down the long hallway before him and not towards the young man calling his name.

“Yes, young master,” Hakyeon says. He’s quite proud of himself for keeping his tone even, calm, but Wonshik shoots him an amused look anyway that he entirely disregards. There are  _ cameras  _ here, taking footage that Taekwoon’s father might see. 

The creak of the old wood flooring behind them is telltale: Taekwoon is shifting his weight from one leg to another, but the sounds are soft enough that he must be barefoot. There’s a slight whisper of cloth, too - pajamas, then, those loose cotton pants that always make Taekwoon sleep better, and probably one of Wonshik’s civvy shirts, the ones Taekwoon always steals until they lose his scent and he has to steal a new one.

“Hakyeon-ssi,” Taekwoon says, a little more desperately. The door squeaks slightly on its hinges. Taekwoon must be leaning heavily on the handle; it was a habit formed long ago after one of his father’s business deals had gone wrong and left him with a shattered ankle. The injury healed beautifully, but sometimes when he gets nervous, afraid -

Hakyeon turns sharply on his heel. He’s right, of course, about how Taekwoon would look and how he would be standing, tight in against the door; his training was good enough for that. He missed the particulars, but that’s to be expected, and he rather likes being unable to predict exactly how messily Taekwoon’s dark hair would fall into his eyes or the exact shade of soft pink that his sweet kitten mouth would be.

“Yes, young master,” Hakyeon says again. Before he turned, he considered bowing just for show - maybe it would make Wonshik snort and Taekwoon smile - but now, looking at Taekwoon, who looks painfully small in Wonshik’s old high school T-shirt with the stretched-out collar, who can barely look Hakyeon in the eye, he can’t bring himself to bend. He steps forward instead, his hands almost reaching out to cup Taekwoon around the waist and bring him into his chest, but he manages to stop himself in time.  _ The cameras. _

“Hakyeon.” Taekwoon says his name in a pained little whisper, finally pulling his gaze from the whorls in the wood flooring and up to Hakyeon’s face. Hakyeon tries briefly to catch Wonshik’s eyes, but connection doesn’t come fast enough and something tight between Hakyeon’s ribs tugs his attention back to Taekwoon before he can really give Wonshik much of a chance. At least Taekwoon has let go of the doorknob.

“Do you wish for both of us to attend you?” If Wonshik was unaware of the gravity of the situation, he certainly understands now; Hakyeon’s voice is much softer than it was when he was teasing, back before he saw the dark circles under Taekwoon’s eyes and the nervous hunch of his shoulders.

Taekwoon doesn’t respond how Hakyeon expects. What usually happens - even when Taekwoon is  _ like this  _ \- is a straightforward, one-word answer, quiet, just audible over the soft hum of the fan Taekwoon keeps just inside his door. Now, his mouth works like there are words in his head that he can’t figure out how to let between his teeth. His eyes might be looking at Hakyeon, but there’s something flat in his face that makes it seem like Taekwoon can’t really see him.

“Hakyeon, Hakyeon, I - please-” This time it's Taekwoon reaching for him instead of the other way around. Hakyeon can’t find it within himself not to let Taekwoon get hands against his chest as he shrinks in close, even though by all rights Taekwoon should be the bigger, the stronger of the two. He curls his fingers around Taekwoon’s elbows, running his thumbs in soothing little circles, trying - begging - to get Taekwoon to look him properly in the eye.

“Here’s what we’re going to do, Taekwoon,” Hakyeon says. He keeps his voice low, both so as not to let the cameras hear and because Taekwoon flinches too easily at loud noises, and right now his threshold is visibly low. Wonshik steps closer quietly and when he offers his hand palm-up, Taekwoon takes it and threads their fingers together. He nods, exhaling, like that touch is all he needed before acknowledging Hakyeon.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” he says again. “We’re going to go into your room, the three of us.” Pause. Wait. “Let me know you hear me, Taekwoon.” Taekwoon nods again on command and swallows, trying to step closer into Hakyeon’s arms without letting go of Wonshik’s hand, but Hakyeon keeps his grip on Taekwoon’s arms firm and won’t let him. Taekwoon whines. “We’re going to go to your room, and you’re going to tell us what you need from us. Do you understand?”

Taekwoon whines again, but he manages to breathe out a soft  _ yes _ too. If he didn’t, Hakyeon would wait until he did. All three of them know he would.

Wonshik opens the door to Taekwoon’s rooms wider again with his free hand, and together they pull him in between them. Hakyeon hates Taekwoon’s rooms, really; his father had them furnished in blacks and golds, all cold marble floors and lush velvet upholstery. The whole thing stinks of wealth, but it looks more like an expensive, impersonal hotel suite than anywhere a person would really live.

As soon as the door closes - as soon as the fear of security cameras can be dismissed - Taekwoon positively droops. He sinks heavy into Wonshik’s arms, and Wonshik takes his weight easily, kissing Taekwoon’s temple, his eyes, the bridge of his nose. Hakyeon runs his fingers through Taekwoon’s hair softly, then lays a kiss to the corner of Wonshik’s mouth, just because he can.

“Come on, to bed,” he whispers. He hopes he sounds more encouraging than anything else. Taekwoon lets himself be led down the hall they’ve gone down countless times, sometimes like this, in the dark, but sometimes with Taekwoon flushed and laughing and the lights on. Hakyeon kisses Taekwoon’s shoulder blade through the thin fabric of Wonshik’s shirt.

The lights are on in Taekwoon’s bedroom, slipping warm and yellow into the hallway from under the door. They get in with relative ease - despite the fact that at this point Wonshik is more carrying Taekwoon than helping him walk - and Hakyeon is unsurprised to see the bed as crisply put-together as it was this morning when the maid left. Taekwoon wouldn’t have tried to sleep alone tonight. Hakyeon pulls back the duvet in a quick, practiced motion; it’s some pricey duck-feather thing, the same steel grey as the Egyptian cotton sheets underneath it. Another gift from his father, as though having normal bedlinens might sully the Jung name. 

They guide Taekwoon to sit on the edge of the bed and he goes easily under their hands, but once he’s down his arms loop so quickly around Wonshik’s waist both of them are surprised; Taekwoon buries his face in Wonshik’s stomach, not even caring about the suit button squishing into his cheek, and makes a soft pleased noise when Wonshik starts stroking through his hair.

Hakyeon puts his gun on the nightstand, beside the bottle of lube that seems to live almost permanently next to the sleek alarm clock, and then reaches into Wonshik’s belt to take his out, too. He makes sure, again then once more, that the safeties are on. He has a pretty good idea of where tonight is heading, anyway, because that’s  _ always  _ where it heads, because Taekwoon is a peculiarly frustrating mixture of needy and withdrawn, dependent and cold. The last time they really just talked was also the first time Hakyeon- 

And Taekwoon had shut down, and remained strange and quiet for nearly an hour. So Hakyeon doubts that will be happening again.

“What do you want us to do?” Hakyeon asks. He wants to hear him say it, ask for it. Taekwoon turns his head against Wonshik’s stomach to peek at Hakyeon out of the corner of his eye, squint-pouting in his judgment. It gets a laugh out of Hakyeon in spite of himself; Wonshik laughs too, so easy to amuse, and then Taekwoon is turning back to suffocate himself in Wonshik’s work suit. He’s probably still pouting.

“Sorry, baby.” Wonshik’s voice is always low and warm, always makes some of the tension bleed out of Taekwoon’s shoulders, and tonight is no different. He gets loose enough for Wonshik to pull a bit away - Wonshik doesn’t go very far, just far enough that he can get Taekwoon’s face in his palms and tilt his head up to kiss his pretty mouth, gentle and lingering. Taekwoon’s hands come up to hold Wonshik’s wrists; Hakyeon’s smile fades into something a little softer.

Even if it’s not - ideal, sometimes, even if Hakyeon has to press it down tight every time he almost lets himself go, they’re still here. Taekwoon still needs them, still loves them in his own strange way, still depends on them to keep him safe and make it stop when things get too much.

Wonshik straightens up but keeps Taekwoon sitting on the bed with heavy hands, even as Taekwoon’s breath comes heavier and quick at the loss of Wonshik’s mouth. He doesn’t have to look at Hakyeon for Hakyeon to understand the trade-off, but he looks anyway, so Hakyeon gets to kiss Wonshik briefly before slipping in to gather Taekwoon up against his chest. For his part, Wonshik starts tugging off his shoes before sitting on the bed next to Taekwoon and thumbing reassuringly at the small of his back.

“You know this is not what your father pays us for,” Hakyeon says, like he feels he has to every time they do this. He always lets Taekwoon cling to him anyway, lets Taekwoon kiss his throat then Wonshik’s collarbone then back in light little butterfly drops. Taekwoon feels strangely shivery in his arms and Hakyeon gets the distinct impression that the two of them the only thing keeping Taekwoon tethered down right now.

“I know,” is the only response he gets. Hakyeon believes him, he does. Taekwoon knows. Taekwoon isn’t stupid, he just doesn’t really understand.

Wonshik pulls up at the hem of Taekwoon’s - Wonshik’s - shirt, letting his wrists brush ever so lightly against the smooth skin of Taekwoon’s stomach, just to hear him exhale into Hakyeon’s mouth, probably, or maybe to feel the way the muscle tenses and shrinks into his spine like a nervous starfish.

“What are you wanting?” Hakyeon asks when he has to break away from Taekwoon’s mouth to let Wonshik get his shirt over Taekwoon’s head. It might be the millionth time he's asking it tonight, but a real answer hasn't come yet and he wants to hear Taekwoon  _ say it. _ Taekwoon’s knees fall open, just a little, so Hakyeon crouches between them and splays fingers against the insides of his clothed thighs.

It’s possible just like it’s always possible - maybe Taekwoon wants to fuck Wonshik, or Hakyeon, or watch them fuck each other with his own hand on himself, but Hakyeon isn’t really expecting it tonight. Taekwoon’s lips twitch; he blinks once, twice, three times in quick succession, and then he swallows.

“I,” he whispers. Stops, swallows again, the motion of his kiss-red mouth just this side of enchanting.  _ "Please, _ Hakyeon.” And, well. Perhaps that will have to be good enough.

“What about me, hm?” Wonshik drapes himself over Taekwoon’s shoulders and runs his nose against the underside of Taekwoon’s jaw until Taekwoon shivers. “Tonight has been an awful lot of  _ Hakyeon _ and not enough  _ Wonshik, _ if you ask me.” It pulls a little smile out of Taekwoon, at least, and he kisses Wonshik’s pout and the corner of his eye to make up for it.

“We can fix that quick enough, you impatient goose,” Hakyeon grumbles, prodding Wonshik sharply with his foot; Wonshik makes a wounded noise in the back of his throat, but doesn’t move to get himself out of range. Hakyeon pokes him again.

It takes almost no time at all for Wonshik’s hand to creep under the stretched elastic of Taekwoon’s pajama pants, and Taekwoon to start trying rather unsuccessfully to rid Wonshik of his button-up. He shivers, goosebumps clear on his bare skin, and the shaking can’t be helping his efforts; it's chilly in small wisps of cold curling against them because Taekwoon always forgets to close the windows. Hakyeon almost trips over Wonshik's discarded shoes on his way to pull in all the open frames and to turn the thermostat up. When the heater starts humming through the vents, Taekwoon sighs in what might be thanks.

“Taekwoonie.” Taekwoon looks up at Hakyeon with eyes gone a little wide, a little glazed. He’s fading, or getting there, but Hakyeon doesn’t comment. He just crosses the room again and pushes Taekwoon’s hair back away from his forehead, to pet him smoothly and lull him calmer. “Taekwoonie, will you suck Wonshikkie’s cock for me?” Taekwoon nods, because of course he does, already reaching for the button of Wonshik’s pants and slipping off the bed to settle at Wonshik’s feet. Wonshik lifts his hips, slightly, to let Taekwoon tug away his trousers and boxers, and divests himself easily of his shirt before Taekwoon gets his mouth on him.

But he does, in the end, get Wonshik in his mouth, and god if it isn't a sight to see. He's never been very neat about it, too sloppy, too wet, too many teeth just scraping the skin, but there's some appeal to that too. Wonshik lets him drool all over his cock as Taekwoon works his way down until Hakyeon hears him gag, and Hakyeon twists fingers in Taekwoon’s hair to keep him there. Just for a beat, just long enough, because he knows Taekwoon hates feeling trapped.

Hakyeon lets him go and lets Taekwoon pull off, quick and messy with spit shining on his chin. Taekwoon wipes his face on Wonshik’s thigh - Wonshik inhales, low and breaking - but then he’s back with lips tracing down the shaft and eyes drifting shut. He’s practically nuzzling up between Wonshik’s legs, and it’s disconcertingly endearing. Wonshik rubs thumbs behind Taekwoon’s ears and murmurs small, kind nonsense down at him when shivers trail down Taekwoon’s spine.

Taekwoon flicks his tongue out to lave sharply at the slit and Wonshik gasps, hips twitching. Hakyeon's own cock throbs in his pants; Taekwoon does it again, little kitten licks to the head, and Hakyeon almost makes a low embarrassing noise when he remembers what that would feel like on himself. Soft. Damp. Just a hint of pressure, then dropping away. Wonshik pulls his lower lip into his mouth and bites hard as Taekwoon opens his mouth wider to take him in.

Taekwoon is still kneeling between Wonshik's spread legs, sweat gathering prettily in the bare arch of his lower back, slim hands coming up to stroke what bit of Wonshik he can't fit down his throat, and Hakyeon is abruptly tired of just  _ watching. _ He kneels, too, shuffling awkwardly over on his knees to get arms around Taekwoon’s waist and press his chest flat to Taekwoon’s back. Taekwoon shivers once, but it isn't out of cold this time, and his belly tenses under Hakyeon’s fingertips as if he were going to pull off of Wonshik entirely.

He doesn't, though. For whatever reason, he presses down further instead, muscles bunching at the back of his neck. Taekwoon must do something with his tongue, then, maybe his teeth; either way, Wonshik makes an odd, strangled groan and can't keep his hips flat on the bed anymore, bucking once, sharply, into Taekwoon’s mouth.

Hakyeon grabs for one of Wonshik’s hands and brings it closer to him, tucks it into the dark fall of Taekwoon’s hair. Taekwoon bobs up and down on his own and Wonshik lets him, for once. He lets Taekwoon set his own pace instead of fucking his throat, and Hakyeon’s hand lifts from his stomach and splays across the warm skin of Taekwoon’s neck, just to feel the way the muscles constrict and relax around Wonshik’s cock. 

“Taekwoon,” Wonshik says, and Hakyeon’s eyes flick up to his face even as his hand tightens over Wonshik’s over Taekwoon. Taekwoon makes a little noise in the back of his throat and Wonshik has to close his eyes for a second. “Taekwoon, Taekwoon, can I-?” His throat sounds like it closes up of its own accord, and he swallows audibly.

But Taekwoon nods anyway, as best he can, hands dropping to palm at Hakyeon’s forearm across his ribs, and Wonshik manages to body himself to a better position and tightens his fingers against Taekwoon’s scalp.

Hakyeon gets a faceful of Wonshik’s thigh every time he thrusts forward, but that’s okay, more than okay, more than made up for by the feeling of Taekwoon’s body rocking against him as Wonshik fucks his mouth. His hips press back into Hakyeon’s, spine curved prettily as he lets his head sit loose between Hakyeon’s shoulder and Wonshik’s hands; Hakyeon hisses low when Taekwoon pushes too hard against his cock where it strains hard in his nice trousers.

They fall into a kind of rhythm, Wonshik fucking Taekwoon’s mouth as Hakyeon just loosely ruts against his ass, Taekwoon swaying between them. It’s - easy, really, almost bordering gentle. Wonshik isn’t running Taekwoon too hard, even when Taekwoon tries to force him harsher with teeth and tongue. Hakyeon can see it when Wonshik gets close; there’s a new tension in his thighs, stiffer lines in the muscles of his stomach, and he picks up the pace enough to have Taekwoon whining desperately and squirming in Hakyeon’s arms.

“Come, Wonshik,” Hakyeon says. His voice comes out sterner than he intends, closer to an order than anything, and he, almost - that isn’t what tonight is supposed to be, and a funny shock splits through his belly. Wonshik either doesn’t notice or chooses to ignore it, but he obeys anyway. He forces Taekwoon’s head down on him, curves over them both, and comes into his mouth with a low groan. Taekwoon makes a funny wet choking noise, working up to swallow around Wonshik’s cock, and Wonshik lets go of his hair, quick, stunned, twitchy.

Taekwoon almost suckles a little as he pulls off; Wonshik whines at the slow stimulation even as he goes soft again, but the sight makes something hot and heady twist between Hakyeon’s hips. Once he pulls off and Wonshik’s cock calms between his legs - Hakyeon uses a finger to catch a spot of come by Taekwoon’s lower lip, pushing it back into his mouth - Taekwoon almost tips forward, breathing audibly and his face close against Wonshik’s skin. Wonshik cups his neck, then, tracing little nonsense designs that Hakyeon mirrors on Taekwoon’s ribs as they wait for him to come back to them.

“Sorry,” Taekwoon says. Whispers, more like, the sound blurred with breath and oddly fuzzy. Hakyeon has to fight to keep himself from frowning, even without Taekwoon looking at him, but Wonshik makes no such attempt. His little mouth curves down in confusion and he shifts his weight as if to pull his hips back from Taekwoon’s head, gaze flicking tight up to Hakyeon’s. Hakyeon licks his lips and shakes his head; he’s not sure what he’s telling Wonshik not to do, whether it’s moving or talking or taking his hands from Taekwoon’s neck, but Wonshik goes obediently still and something grateful flutters between Hakyeon’s ribs.

“Why are you sorry, Woonie?” Hakyeon reaches out again, runs fingers through Taekwoon’s hair more gently than he had before as Taekwoon kisses the head of Wonshik's cock once, then again, and Wonshik can only kind of dribble wet against his lips. His shoulders hunch in on each other and then his nose is buried in the skin of Wonshik's hip, and Wonshik's soft cock is pressed against his throat.

Hakyeon bends down to kiss over Taekwoon's hair, chaste and soft. Taekwoon trembles briefly underneath him, against Wonshik, and Wonshik’s fingers resume their slow petting at his hairline.

“Not enough,” Taekwoon says, after several long minutes in which Wonshik’s limbs were surely going stiff and Hakyeon had kissed and re-kissed every inch of pretty dark hair. For a moment, Hakyeon stills, mind tangling, trying to figure out what Taekwoon means when he speaks so softly, so flat and inflectionless. Taekwoon rolls his shoulders, then his neck, and sits back on his heels to stare up into Hakyeon’s face properly. There are darker spots on the thighs of his pajama pants where spit dripped down from his chin.

Taekwoon reaches for him again, the set of his jaw stubborn but his fingers oddly twitchy, and not for the first time, Hakyeon wonders if it’s really okay for him to use them like this. If they should make him stop, make him  _ talk _ about whatever has gotten him strange tonight, or half the nights of the past six months. But that has never worked in the past, and Hakyeon thinks he can be forgiven for his weakness as he lets Taekwoon take ahold of his neck and bring their mouths to meet.

Taekwoon tastes like Wonshik, mostly, when his lips part for Hakyeon to dip inside, but there’s an undercurrent of both cinnamon mouthwash and the wine Taekwoon must have downed between getting ready for the evening and coming to find them. Wonshik’s hands settle hot on top of Hakyeon’s, but he doesn’t move to guide. “Please,” Taekwoon whispers into Hakyeon’s mouth, and he swallows the sound easily.

“Please what, Taekwoonie?” Hakyeon asks. He pulls back to kiss over Taekwoon’s forehead; Taekwoon almost whines.

“Hakyeon, I-” He cuts himself off, twists angrily, lets his hips knock against the insides of Wonshik’s knees. It would be cruel to laugh, so Hakyeon doesn’t, just pulls Taekwoon flush against him and feels him sag a little into his chest. “I need - more.” Ah, because he’s still coherent. Because his cock is hard and tenting his silk pajamas but they haven’t fucked away his humanity yet tonight.

“Okay,” Hakyeon says eventually. The way Taekwoon relaxes in relief would be comic, maybe, if the all the pieces weren’t the way they are. Except they  _ are, _ and it isn’t. Hakyeon rubs fingertips up and down at the base of Taekwoon’s spine, feeling the tension there. “I said okay, Taekwoon. Can you let me stand up?”

Wonshik keeps close to Taekwoon while Hakyeon stands to shrug out of his uniform. He would make a show of it, usually, twist up cloth and pluck at buttons until he has both of them gagging for it. It can be so satisfying to see the way Wonshik’s eyes go a little wide, his pupils blown and mouth open, and how Taekwoon flushes deeper and deeper shades of red - but Hakyeon just doesn’t have it in him tonight. Finally, he kicks himself out of his dress pants with only a little difficulty, and that’s all he has to do. 

Taekwoon’s hands smooth across the planes of Hakyeon’s stomach with something like reverence, his thumb dipping soft into the indent of his bellybutton. Wonshik hooks hands under Taekwoon’s arms to pull him up from the floor; his arm stays curled around Taekwoon’s waist even once he’s seated on the bed. Hakyeon lets Taekwoon explore for a while how he always does, lets his own hands come up to stroke through Taekwoon’s hair and tuck stray strands back into place. 

Taekwoon sometimes seems like such a soft little creature, soft face soft mouth soft hands, that Hakyeon wonders how anyone could speak to him of ugly things. Hakyeon’s not stupid, though, and he knows where their money comes from. Knows the part Taekwoon plays in it now, knows the part he’s been raised to take on later. Hakyeon just can’t - quite - can’t quite shake the ache to clutch him tight and keep him  _ safe. _

(It is his job, at least, so Wonshik doesn’t look at him too funny whenever Hakyeon says something about it.)

Wonshik shifts further back on the pillows. Taekwoon sprawls out long and pale on his sheets, the contrast of colors something wonderful, lovely pale skin and dark grey cloth; Hakyeon’s mouth goes strangely dry every time he sees it.

Hakyeon’s hands settle at Taekwoon’s hips as Taekwoon settles against Wonshik’s chest, Wonshik’s arm around his shoulders and cheek against his forehead. “Can I slip these off, Taekwoon?” Hakyeon asks, tone conversational. He lets the tips of his fingers dip below Taekwoon’s waistband and brush against the heat there, stroking the burr of Taekwoon’s hipbone.

Taekwoon only nods, as if words are too much for him right now. They might be. Hakyeon pulls his pajamas down anyway, guides them gently down Taekwoon’s long legs. Taekwoon has forgone underwear tonight.

As soon as he lies there before them (nude, so pretty, so long and lovely), Hakyeon guides his legs apart by the knee, ready to reach for the lube on the nightstand, before Taekwoon stops him with a hand at his wrist. “I'm already-” he starts, then goes a little pink, then a  _ lot _ pink when Hakyeon pulls back blatantly to see with a strange feeling in his throat.

The slick shine between Taekwoon’s legs is enough of an indication of how bad tonight is going to be, even without all the other warning bells. Taekwoon usually loves having fingers inside him; he even babbles, sometimes, when his mood is high enough - whines out how much he loves feeling Wonshik work him loose, loves how slim and gentle Hakyeon’s fingers are, loves when they kiss him and tell him how good he is for taking it so well. Most of the time, though, he doesn’t glow that bright, and he just sighs and tucks his legs around Hakyeon’s waist or lets Wonshik get them up over his shoulders to spread him open how Wonshik likes. 

And then there are times like this - when he preps himself, without being commanded or watched, just to have one of them inside him that much sooner - and every time, it makes Hakyeon wish he had just that bit more authority. Just enough, just to be able to  _ ask _ if Taekwoon is all right, even if it’s obvious he isn’t.

But it’s still not his place. His place is only to listen to what Taekwoon is willing to tell him. That’s how it is, it’s just - not great.

Taekwoon looks nervous, the same flavor of anxiety he always gets when he thinks he’s done something to displease them - Hakyeon has taken too long just  _ looking, _ and Taekwoon moves to sit up and close his legs with his face wonderfully, prettily red, even though Hakyeon can barely find it in himself to appreciate the view.

His hand lands on Taekwoon’s knee before Taekwoon can pull his legs all the way up and together. He forces it back out to the side more roughly than he really intended, so he makes sure, once he’s climbed in between Taekwoon’s legs, to bend in and press his mouth to the soft inside of Taekwoon’s thighs where his push may have strained the muscle.

Taekwoon’s hands find his hair only when Hakyeon bites down, but he doesn’t pull, not yet. He just makes a small, needy noise from above Hakyeon’s head, request clear, so Hakyeon sucks hard, bites again, works to leave as big and ugly a bruise as he can. Taekwoon always begs them to give him more marks, and right now Hakyeon would do anything their boy asked him for.

Hakyeon feels the shift in Taekwoon’s body that comes when Wonshik pushes him back flat against the pillows, and then hears as Wonshik claims his lips under his own. One of Taekwoon’s hands disappears from Hakyeon’s head, undoubtedly trying to anchor to Wonshik, too, as Hakyeon presses softer, wetter kisses up one thigh and down the other. He bypasses Taekwoon’s cock entirely and intentionally; the whimpering sound Taekwoon makes into Wonshik’s mouth is satisfying, even if teasing like this is a little cruel when he's already desperate. Taekwoon tries to twist his hips closer in towards Hakyeon’s face, so Hakyeon sits back up on his heels.

“Condom, Wonshik,” Hakyeon says. His throat feels too-tight-too-close, but his hand is steady when he holds it out for the little packet. Taekwoon pouts (“I don't want a condom, Hakyeon, please,”) but Hakyeon ignores him and slides it on himself anyway.

He pushes two fingers into Taekwoon, and they slip in easily; Taekwoon’s neck arches back against Wonshik’s shoulder, long and pretty. He inhales through his nose and his hips tilt up into his hand when Hakyeon spreads the fingers inside of him. Taekwoon is loose and wet and hot, and Hakyeon is aching with it.

“ _ Please," _ Taekwoon says, voice catching. He hooks his ankles around Hakyeon’s waist and tries to pull him in, so Hakyeon lets himself be pulled, lets Taekwoon fit him close between his legs and lets his cock press against Taekwoon’s ass. Wonshik strokes Taekwoon patiently, gently, even as Hakyeon sees his dick twitch in renewed interest.

“I got you,” Hakyeon tells Taekwoon softly; Taekwoon lets out a little moan. “I got you.” He pulls away just far enough to reposition, to check Taekwoon’s expression, and then he’s pressing forward, pressing in. Taekwoon always takes cock so well it's like he was made for it. Made to be spread out between them, made for Hakyeon to work open and fuck deep.

He's - he's so hot and so tight, feels so  _ good  _ against Hakyeon’s cock, that it takes a conscious effort to go slow. Hakyeon gets his hips flush to Taekwoon’s thighs eventually and holds himself carefully, carefully still to let Taekwoon adjust to the fullness and the feel of having Hakyeon inside him again. It gives Hakyeon a chance, too - he never manages to remember properly how overwhelming being inside Taekwoon can be.

Taekwoon grows impatient quickly, because of course he does. He whines through his teeth, tangles his fingers with Wonshik’s until they both have gone white at the bones, pleads up at Hakyeon for something quick and hard. “I don't want to walk right tomorrow,” he murmurs into Hakyeon’s chest, “I want to feel you for - for days, Hakyeon, please,” and the words burn in Hakyeon’s veins.

He starts with an easy pull back, out until only the head is still in Taekwoon, where he pauses. Taekwoon clenches down - intentionally or not - and it startles a moan out of Hakyeon. He fucks back in harder than he wanted, hard enough to punch a gasp out through Taekwoon’s lungs.

From there it's just a matter of rhythm. He knows Taekwoon’s body almost as well as he knows his own; he knows how to get him where he wants him, he knows how to fuck to have Taekwoon so drowned in him that Taekwoon forgets everything unimportant. So that's what he does. Steady, full, close, littering kisses along Taekwoon’s delicate collarbones.

It’s still not working. Whatever Taekwoon wanted them to make him forget is still clear and heavy on his mind; he shakes, makes soft whimpering noises every time Hakyeon slides into him, buries his face in Hakyeon’s neck and wraps his lovely long legs around Hakyeon’s waist as if he can’t bear to let Hakyeon pull back at all. Sometimes a particularly hard thrust of his hips has something akin to a sob pushing itself out of Taekwoon’s mouth; it twists in Hakyeon’s chest almost painfully.

He wants this to be over.

(He wants Taekwoon to be okay.)

He gets a hand in between their torsos, to where Taekwoon’s cock is pressed close against their stomachs. It’s wet and hot under Hakyeon’s fingers and he starts trying to push Taekwoon towards coming, as gently as he can. He lets the precome alone ease the slide - he’d have to pull out to reach the bottle of lube, and he’s not sure Taekwoon could handle that, not right now, and he doesn’t want to risk it. Taekwoon squirms under him and breathes, “ _ please," _ into Hakyeon’s skin, the sound choking somewhere small in his throat; Hakyeon isn’t sure what Taekwoon is asking for, isn’t sure if Taekwoon wants to come faster or wants Hakyeon to let go of him, so he just matches the movement of his hand to the movement of his hips and lets his thumb run across the slit of Taekwoon’s cock on the upstroke.

“Come on, Taekwoonie,” Hakyeon says, right at the same time as Wonshik says, “Sweet boy, can you come for us?” up against Taekwoon’s neck, and Taekwoon arches up between them like he doesn’t know which feeling to focus on.

It takes longer than Hakyeon really expected for Taekwoon to come. He needs soft words and Hakyeon close against him and Wonshik kissing his face for whole minutes before his eyelids flutter and he spills messily between them. Hakyeon curses when Taekwoon suddenly goes tight, can't stop himself from fucking a few times into the body beneath him, just enough, just until-

His orgasm washes through him, oddly cold even as he comes hard into the condom, and he just pants into Taekwoon’s sweat-slick skin while they both recover. 

It takes several moments, Hakyeon softening inside Taekwoon. He whimpers when Hakyeon pulls out and kisses his thigh to calm him, tugging off the condom. Hakyeon wants to make a joke - something about cleanup being easier, isn’t it, aren’t you glad I used it - but somehow he doesn’t think Taekwoon will laugh. He kisses him again instead.

Taekwoon lays still and lax as Wonshik and Hakyeon set about cleaning him up, his eyes closed and nose tucked into the curve of one elbow. Hakyeon dresses quickly, quietly; Wonshik goes to rinse himself off properly in the sink. Taekwoon makes a tiny sound that might have been a protest when Hakyeon lays down beside him, wrinkled dress shirt and all, and gathers Taekwoon’s long limbs into Hakyeon’s chest.

They just hold him for a long while, the clock running slowly across the room. Wonshik reemerges and presses up against Taekwoon’s back, clearly wanting him to feel safe, wrapped up close between their bodies. Hakyeon lets Taekwoon fit himself in under his chin and tangle their legs together, and they just - breathe, together. Taekwoon’s heart rate slows into a soothing, calm rhythm against Hakyeon’s ribcage that Hakyeon attributes more to orgasm than to anything else.

“I don’t have anyone but you two,” Taekwoon says, the words soft by Hakyeon’s throat, but Hakyeon trusts Wonshik can hear too. Hakyeon swallows and hums, uncertain how to respond - because Taekwoon is right, he  _ doesn’t _ have anyone else, but that’s not the kind of thing he can just agree with.

Taekwoon doesn’t go on; he just limpets more firmly to Hakyeon’s side and pushes his nose into Hakyeon’s skin. The clock on the dresser blinks stouty at them, and Hakyeon knows they ought to get themselves put together and out to finish the night post before anyone gets suspicious, but. But.

“You do have us,” Hakyeon says. It feels weak, but he plows on anyway. “We’re not going anywhere, Taekwoonie.”  _ We love you, _ he doesn’t say.  _ I love you. _ Maybe Taekwoon hears enough of it in his tone, though, because he nestles closer and links his fingers with Wonshik’s on Hakyeon’s stomach.

There’s a pause. Hakyeon wonders if they should start back out to the door again, if Taekwoon won’t sink into himself tonight now.

“Hongbin died today,” Taekwoon says, soft. He rubs one of his eyes with the back of a fist; the action makes him look strangely young, but Hakyeon can barely notice it. All the air in his lungs rushes out in one, like those three words - five syllables -  _ three words  _ \- like they'd punched him in the gut. Like they hadn't just trickled lightly into his ears in Taekwoon's quiet, pretty voice. His throat feels like it’s closing up. Wonshik sits up so fast he sways with it, and whatever calm had settled over them like a blanket is gone, gone, gone.

“What do you mean  _ died?" _ Wonshik asks. He sounds like he's choking and Hakyeon can practically hear the tears starting to pool. Wonshik has always been too soft. For his part, Hakyeon is strangely dry-eyed, strangely detached. He blinks, sits up, and throws his legs over the edge of the bed with what scraps of efficiency he can pull together.

“He - he was stealing, apparently.” Taekwoon sounds detached too, but he can't have been earlier. He wouldn't have called them if he could compartmentalize without first having the grief fucked out of him. “Running our guns and not giving over the profits. So-” And, ah, there it is, Taekwoon chokes hard and has to cough three times before he can get himself together. Hakyeon thinks about how Hongbin would smile like he wanted to split his face in half, how he would sneak little lemon cakes into the dealing rooms and pass one to Hakyeon if he stood close enough. How Hongbin wouldn't know how to play dirty even if it killed him. How Taekwoon’s father always seems to cull the lovely ones when they get too kind to his son.

Hakyeon wonders if Taekwoon still believes what his father tells him about the people he has killed.

But that's not Hakyeon's business.

“Was it quick?” Wonshik asks behind him, wobble growing clearer in his voice.

“I don't - know?” Taekwoon says, something like a question. And doesn't that make it worse, Hakyeon thinks, not knowing, just showing up to a business dinner to find an extra empty seat and a shady explanation. Taekwoon -  _ Hongbin  _ deserved better than that.

Hakyeon leans back just far enough to settle into the curve of Taekwoon’s body and bends to kiss flat the frown lines on his forehead. “Are you going to be okay, Taekwoon?” And he’s somehow proud of himself for sounding so calm; someone has to. Wonshik has started shaking and staring blankly at Hakyeon’s cufflinks. Hakyeon’s head feels so serene that his hands tremble with it.

“Stay with me, tonight,” Taekwoon whispers, sounding small. Hakyeon should say no, should be the one in charge. They will regret this;  _ Taekwoon _ will regret this, and Hakyeon will regret  _ that _ . But Taekwoon’s skin is warm and grounding under his palms, and his eyes are so dark and wet and lovely, and he wants Hakyeon to stay. He wants both of them to stay.

Plus, Hakyeon doesn’t think Wonshik should be moved anytime...soon.

So Hakyeon lets himself sigh, lets himself tuck back into Taekwoon’s pillows and wrap his arms around this boy he loves. “Alright,” he says, needlessly. “Just for tonight.”

Taekwoon presses a kiss to his chest, right above his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: [@taekvoon](http://www.twitter.com/taekvoon) ; thank you for reading!


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